The Title Will Return Shortly, as it is on a Lunch Break
by NijaCreepr
Summary: I have a story here. This story is about everything ever, and contains the whole of all culture. Give it a shot, will you?


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**False Prologue**

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It was a normal day outside and an ordinary student walked over to his desk. The English teacher entered the room a moment later.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

The teacher would always enter the room this way, a quite normal way of doing things. She would say good morning, and the class would respond the same way. This day, though, something was different.

"Students, I would like to ask you to do a very difficult task. I need another grade in the grade book for each and every one of you. So, I will have you exercise your creative minds. Write ANYTHING you would like. It will be due to me by Monday. You may begin."

Excited whispers scattered around the room. "Anything?" was the word passed around on so many lips.

The ordinary student raised his hand. Upon seeing this, the professor of fine language walked over to the ordinary student in the ordinary desk.

The simple word escaped his mouth. "Anything?"

The teacher nodded, parroting this one word. "Anything."

The student then proceeded to glance evilly at the quite invisible camera. "So. Let it begin."

"Mwehahahahahaha!"

This is not their story. This is the story of the notebook he then pulls out of his bag, and the countless others to follow suit.

_Author's Note: The above actually did happen to me. It is the reason I gained the willpower to make this fanfiction long-term. Disclaimer: all elements of the story from outside sources belong to their original companies. This is a non-profit story, and is not intended to benefit me in any way whatsoever, just to give other people some reading material. That said here is a Viewer Warning: The following story contains mild cursing and violence. Just to let you be aware of that if it bothers you at all, in any way. Also, this story may contain nuts. Those with allergies beware. Also, this contains 900,000% your daily value of awesome. This could lead to you in person becoming 20% cooler. The only other thing worth mentioning is that this story will eventually contain ponies. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic-styled ponies. If you don't like ponies, go home. If you are home, kill yourself. (Don't actually, please.) On that note, enjoy!_

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**Chapter One**

**You Will Not Get a Real Prologue**

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It was just an ordinary day. Well, it happened at night. The fact is it wasn't ordinary in any way. But it was, before the… events.

Ah, dang it. Let me stop right there and restart from the beginning.

Ahem. Hello, my name is… no, no, NO! That's not right at all! Listen, are you sure you want to hear this? I have seen things not meant for human eyes. I have known the meaning of everything and nothing, simultaneously. I have heard age-old secrets…

What's that? Oh, you get the point, do you? You think I should just get on with it, then? OH YEAH?! WELL, I DON'T THINK SO!

Oh, I'm sorry. Please come back. I didn't mean to scare you away. I need this. To help my mind or whatever, right?

So, just return. I won't bite. (Except for that one time, but I'm over that.) This is just a story, after all. Stories can't hurt you. (Except for that OTHER one time…) It isn't that bad, honestly. Not all of the time. It isn't not hardly never ever half as not bad nor good. Okay.

I'll just calm down for a few seconds, then start. On three, ready? One, two, no, no, I can't. It's too risky. Three just gives you too much time to think about it, right? Alright. I'll go on one this time. One.

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Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Sawyer. Original name, am I correct? Well, I can't change what name my parents gave me. Believe me, I've tried. (Don't worry your mind over it now; it'll all make sense eventually.)

As I was saying, I come from South Dakota. You know, the American one, from the good old U.S. of A.

It all started in November of 2014. It was an ordinary night, other than the fact that it was a mite chilly. But overall, nothing too strange. It was a Saturday, which I am certain of.

I was very, very tired from a week full of nothing in particular. Boredom can exhaust me faster than any amount of physical action. I was dreaming of detaining a deliciously dandy days-worthy double-digit decimal of darned drastic dreariness destruction. In other words, I was glad I could finally get some good rest.

The creaking of the bed springs sounded much louder than usual. My tired brain concluded that it was because the weight of my eyelids collaborated with the rest of my body in the slow destruction of my sleeping place. I slowly and very carefully set down the virtual loads of bricks on my face. The world slowly began to disappear around me.

The next memory I have after that was quite a few loud crashes. The clock I keep on my bedside table read 3:14.

Now deprived of its sleep, my brain started its own sort of pouting. The "engine" of my brain needed a check-up, and was disturbed when its pieces were removed for oiling.

"Fine! It's not like I need to THINK or anything!" I yelled at it, as if words could help any. My ears seemed shocked to hear this new sound. After a minute of helpless contemplating, my oh-so-smart brain decided that the voice was mine. Not functioning is something of a bad habit my brain has. Scumbag brain.

Ah, well, back to the point. I was tired, my brain was slow as molasses, and, oh, that's right! I had just heard a little big amount of noise come from outside my house. Oh, goody me. What could be next, aliens? (Don't answer that question.)

Somewhere in the remains of consciousness I once had, a voice told me to go to the source of the sounds. My body followed the order, and stumbled across my bedroom to the stairs.

It then took the opportunity to remind me of two things; One, stairs are some of the leading killers in the world, and two, the load crashes from outside may have been a very clumsy criminal. Coming to a conclusion to go down those stairs was one of the hardest things I had done so far in my life. I slowly inched my way down on the cold-blooded killer beneath me. I watched it's every move, every creak of a board. At last, I found myself at the bottom of the staircase. I looked back and smirked, glad that a lowly human such as me could outwit the mastermind murderer.

My triumph was interrupted by a smell that anyone should recognize. It was smoke. The smoke was very heavy. Heavy smoke meant fire. My smoke alarm was not blasting either, which worried me. Slowly turning around to find the source, something caught my eye.

A glint of light off of an unknown substance flashed in my eyes. Upon future knowledge I now know that it was glass. I dismissed it as unimportant and continued in my search for the fire.

I had found that quite quickly afterward. While looking out into my backyard, I saw the smoke. A lot of smoke. So much smoke that it was the smallest bit overwhelming to see.

My mind then thought up a genius plan of action. The whole world was clearly on fire, and it was my duty to run out of my house directly into it. After all, that's what so many movie heroes have done for no reason whatsoever. In any way at all, most likely sacrifice, my getting burned to death could stop me from getting burned to death. I know it doesn't make any sense, but it did at the time, so let's move on.

I started at a slow jog. My legs started to move faster, one small bit at a time. The air in the room turned into wind and began to rush past my face. My slippers flew off of my feet and smashed into the wall behind me. I had to make this run count. The whole world depended on it. The sliding glass door that leads into the backyard appeared to be growing larger. I wondered why it would be doing so, as well as why this whole scene was made overly dramatic.

Then it hit me.

Let me stop this story right here to inform you about pain. In small quantities it can tell you to stop whatever it is that you are doing. In larger quantities it can jolt you awake. I assure you that the pain you get from hitting a sliding glass door at quite a few miles per hour is a lot. (On a side note, immense amounts of pain can lead you to think positive thoughts, such as "At least it's finally over.")

"OW!" was the second phrase I said that day, if I remember correctly. It was then followed by some mutterings that even I could not tell what was just said. Out of foolishness, and the fact that I was still not fully awake, I threw the door wide open. Any remnants of sleep still in me where recklessly thrown out. Much of the smoke from outside flooded in and had an impromptu commune on my ceiling. That was the reason my smoke alarm started blaring.

Holding my hands over my ears, I stumbled outside, not knowing where to go. The smoke started to clear, now with another direction in which to flow.

Something strange called out to me. Something is here that was not here before... I thought. A shape began to clear out from among the smoke. There, in the middle of my grass lawn was a single blue box.

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Before you get confused, this was a fairly large box. It looked large enough to hold any person inside, no matter how humanly tall or thick they could be. But it looked only big enough for one person either way, big or small.

I had then noticed that the box was not fully centered in my lawn. My minor case of OCD declared this a higher priority than the fact that all of the smoke was flowing directly from it. It appeared as is some permanently cross-eyed being dropped its mail load in an inconvenient location.

I walked closer. Upon further inspection the box was made put of wood, with patterns that reminded me of all the doors in my first home. A light was resting on top of the box, not flashing or flowing in any way. Words appeared along the top of the figure.

"Police... Public Call... Box." I read aloud to myself.

I froze in my tracks. I had read about these before. In 20th century Britain, these were placed on nearly every street corner. Any citizen, if they managed to catch a criminal, could lock him or her inside the box, and then call local authorities with the phone located on the exterior.

I stepped closer to the box. I began to hear things from inside the box. Alarm sounds. Wait, alarm sounds? How alarm sounds could come from inside a small box, it made no sense. What confused me the most was what I heard next. Soon after, I heard a voice.

It said, "Smoke filters on!"

Smoke filters? In the middle of my lawn, in the middle of the not-morning-but-it-is-technically-morning-in-the-s science-book, in the middle of all of this smoke, in the middle of all of this havoc, in the middle of this strange blue box, a man had turned on the smoke filters. If I weren't awake, I would have called it a dream.

I snapped out of my trance and entered another to think. Man in police box... He must be... A CRIMINAL! Either that or this whole thing could be a practical joke done on me by the moving company.

Criminal or no criminal, being trapped in a small room with smoke could not be good for your health. I decided to Mann up and rescue him from his prison, perhaps (and most likely) unconscious.

I turned around the corner, seeing a closed door with a notice on it. A door handle was on it, as there would be on any door. I pulled the handle of the door and opened it - oh so gently! And then, when I had made a sufficient hole for my head, I thrust it in. Oh, you would have laughed at how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly - very, very slowly, so as not to disturb the man's activity. And then, before I could get fully in the space, I heard him begin to talk.

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"Alright, now. You and I need to have ourselves a little talk. WHAT. WAS. THAT. Oh, no, wait, let me answer that question. That was completely and entirely you. Your fault, not mine. You could have waited a while, or even ASKED ME, but no; you had to go be reckless again. Crash landing and all. I said 'we should go to Raxicoricofallapatorius.' Is that really that hard for you to understand? You went and landed (well, crash landed really, we've already been over this) right back here in America. Because we weren't here in 400 years, were we? FALSE! Our last destination, need I remind you, was America, 1607. In our personal time stream, we were there naught but ten minutes ago. What's next, Australia? Antarctica? THE REPUBLIC OF THE MOON?! Actually, let's go to the moon next. Lovely place."

I then heard an agonizing screech of metal and a flash of sparks flew out of the doorway. "Guess not, then. Anyway, we were supposed to be going to the future of now, and you just flew right out the side if the time vortex. YOU CAN'T DO THAT. Why on Gallifrey do you have to be such a rebel? Is it that you don't like my accent? You want to hear people speak in a more rustic tone, do you? Seriously, you just have to return. Stupid. Fine, you just be stubborn like that. I'll just sit here. And don't you dare say that was ironic."

I absorbed every word he was saying. The accent he spoke of was a British one, a heavy one at that. This seemed very ironic in itself, considering he was in a British police box. I decided to call the overly ironic man "Fe."

Who was this man even talking to, anyway?

Taking another peek inside, in retrospect, was most likely one of the most mind-damaging things I have ever done. All that I could do was stand and stare. The "inside" of the smallish box contained much more than physically possible. Pillars of large size stood all around the room. Metal grates covered the whole floor; Circuits and wires could be seen underneath them. An excess of light bulbs shone brightly from the rounded walls. Overly sized shelves stuck out from its glowing surface. A hallway extended into the distance and split into more, showing that there was more than the inside that was more than the outside.

The two things that I paid the most attention to were sitting in the center of the chamber. One was a huge console. A towering pillar stood in the center, with other smaller columns visible inside. As for the console itself, it was quite a sight. Many different controls were assembled as if in a random collage. The controls were from all different sources, with everything from buttons to cranks. Dials and switches and knobs, oh my! Assorted monitor screens were sitting on, above, and in-between pieces of machinery. A rubber and a steel mallet hung down on leather straps, attached to a peg. A railing surrounded the machine, and almost comically there was a large padded chair attached directly to it.

The other thing I noticed was the man. The only reason he surprised me was that his appearance was in no way surprising. He appeared to be a youngish man. He wore a slightly ragged brown coat on his back. The hair on his head was unkempt, little bits of it flying off in random directions. All in all, he looked exactly like an ordinary citizen that I would pass on the street. Thinking back, I actually had seen this man pass me on the street a few times.

My brain interrupted my description of the situation in time to mentally shout, "Hey! Look! Listen! You need to get out of this scene! This zone of insanity! Now!"

But this time it was my body's turn to be stupefied. Freezing in place, all that I could do now was stare and mutter illegible sounds. "Buh. Buh. Buh. Buh." and so on. The strange individual sitting on the floor turned his head around in a way that should have given him whiplash.

"Oh, hello there." he said to me in a calm voice.

I stared at him and muttered.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

I stared at him and muttered.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

I stared and muttered.

"Okay..."

I stared and muttered.

My mind then got fed up this this behavior and decided to think a few things such as "Get on with it" and "Yeah, get on with it." I decided to do so. As I opened my mouth to speak, the strange man interrupted me.

"If there is anything you want to say, just say it. _Please..._"

Before I closed my mouth again, I managed to say my statement. "It's... bigger on the inside..."

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"YES!" He suddenly shouted, surprising me. "Score one for the Doctor!"

Feeling more and more like he was a complete psycho at every moment, I tried a simple question.

"Doctor Who?"

His response to that was even more enthusiastic. "YES AGAIN! Score two points to me! I just LOVE it when you humans say that. Ooh, boy. This day is improving rather quickly, isn't it? Oh, and by the way, it's just the Doctor."

The Doctor now looked beside himself with glee at this point. I tried another question.

"Mister…"

Just to be cut off by him. "Doctor."

"Alright, Mister Doctor. I have a simple question for you. Are you psychotic?"

"In a way, yes. Why do you ask?" The way he said the words so calmly, so naturally, it hardly seemed as if he even could be insane.

He once again surprised me with a sudden outburst of speech. "Well, enough jibber jabber. Be off with you. Just forget about this whole thing. In the morning, you'll just accept it as a dream."

I watched him as he walked away into the strange hallway, talking to himself. Needless to say, I did not follow his orders. How could I? Even if curiosity kills the cat, curiosity is a very powerful force. I could not leave until I had known all I could about this place.

The Doctor then emerged from the hallway.

"Oh, you're still here?" He said and made a long pause. "Oh… You would be the owner of those five trees, half of a shingled roof, two windows, a patio, that bench, and the doghouse, wouldn't you? You know the ones that are no longer in existence?"

What did he just say to me?

"What did you just say to me?"

"Oh, that's right. And also your car out front. Sorry about that! I'll just be off then. Goodbye!"

I felt a cold rage building within me. This "Doctor" came to my house, broke more than half of my things, and worse yet, I HAD NO IDEA HOW HE MANAGED TO DO IT.

"Wait just a minute here…" I had attempted to say.

The doors of the machine closed, as if on cue. An echoing whooshing sound began to fill the chamber.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" The Doctor shouted to no one in particular.

I shouted at him "You did this! What did you do?!" He parried my verbal blow with more talking.

"I have no idea, but I can't reverse the process at this point. We are stuck wherever and whenever she decides to take us."

"Who exactly is 'she?' And I think you had better speak up, because you owe me very many explanations."

The Doctor then sighed and put on his famous everything-will-be-all-right-but-in-reality-it-wil l-not-be face. The whooshing sound quieted to a dull thrumming. "I guess I do owe you an explanation or two. It's a good thing that we will have plenty of time to talk. All of the time in the universe."

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My muscles began to relax when I heard the somewhat soothing sound of the thrumming in the background. My personal philosophy is to not fight what you can't fight. I mean, how idiotic would you look hitting a blast door with bare fists? Pretty dumb, that's right. Also, the Doctor was trapped in here with me, so I had nothing to worry about.

Doctor whoever-he-is was leaning back against the console. I seized my chance to make him talk.

"Ehhh... What's up, doc?"

He gave a weak smile and started one of his mile-long speeches. "Have a seat over there. This will take most of the time we have on this trip."

It was the odd chair's turn to creak under my weight.

"So, now. Let us begin. I am a time traveler. Do you like that seat? It's not a favorite of mine. Oh, right. Back to the topic then. The time traveler story. This machine you see around us is the TARDIS. She is the time machine I use to get anyplace I, or she, would like to go. TARDIS stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Do you care for the interior design? I honestly like it much better than the one with the box television. I always hated those things. Those and pears. I just can't stand pears."

"This man can't stay on topic for his life!" I thought.

"Doctor..." I intervened.

"I was still talking. And now I can't remember the topic."

"Doctor..."

"How many times must I say it? You humans don't listen worth a medium-sized pile of mangoes."

"Doctor..."

"Hush now, quiet now."

"Doctor…"

"Phsht."

I was getting more annoyed by the second. Here I was, trying to make a point, and this… this fruit medic goes and treats me like a young child.

"Doctor..."

"Phsht."

"Doctor?"

"Phsht."

"Doctor."

"I've got a whole bundle of Phsht right here with me, and I'm not afraid to use it."

"DOCTOR!"

He seemed over his quiet-fest, and now seemed willing to listen to my point.

"The sounds have stopped."

He gave me a look of mock horror, and then said "That means we're here."

"Here where?"

"Oh, I don't know. Anywhere, really. By the way, did you know you are still wearing your bathrobe?"

I naturally refused to believe any of what he just said, other than the fact that I was, in fact, still wearing my bathrobe.

"You know what? I'll bet that this is all a joke, isn't it? I haven't moved anywhere; you just set up a clever illusion box in my backyard to make a fool out of me. By the way yourself, the joke was never funny, and you coat looks stupid."

I power-walked my way over to the door. The door slammed against the wall of the TARDIS as I thrust it open. The sight I then saw was nearly an overwhelming as first seeing the interior of the TARDIS. Outside of the doors stood nothing but outer space.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I'm in SPAAAAAACE!"

The stars in the night/day sky were organized in a different pattern than what I was used to. I could see below me a large planet. To the side of me I could see a large asteroid belt in the distance. A reddish nebula stood forward from where I stood.

I didn't take the time to notice the Doctor walk up right next to me. "Do you believe me now?"

I then proceeded to say "Eeyup." That's what I said, I said ah-yeah.

We both stared out at the peaceful scene. As for air to breath, it was being provided for me somehow. I frankly didn't care at the moment. The complete silence of space made my ears ring.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge, pointed boulder was scorching through the sky, headed straight for the planet below. The lack of atmosphere up in space and the burning of the backside of the meteor were two very conflicting facts. As it passed the TARDIS, I could have sworn I saw the letters "B.S.L." printed on the side of… Was that metal? A purple-colored object split from the colossal hunk of stone, heading off in its own direction. I stared at it for a while.

I then reminded myself that the whole mass of it was headed towards the planet below. I looked down just in time to see a huge explosion, visible all the way from the very high place I was sitting at. It looked amazing, really. The smaller pieces of it snapped off and crashed in different locations. The main body of it fell and created a spectacular mushroom cloud. The other pieces formed much smaller impacts, giving a feeble "meh" of an explosion.

Despite the sheer beauty of destruction, I was horrified.

I turned to the Doctor. "What just happened there?"

He replied with a statement that I have learned to expect from him. "I have no idea. That's exactly the reason why we should go check it out."

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

_Other Author's Note: Hello, again! Friend of a friend! Haven't seen you in a while! Whoever just saw what I did there is at least 40% cooler. Just to let you know, I have many references placed throughout this story. A somewhat impossible number of them, in fact. If you would like me to compile some sort of a list, I will be obliged to do so. Anyway, thanks for viewing. The chapters will get longer, and be much better in the future. Speaking of the future, please review my story. Be sure to make a lot of comments on things I can change when I get a chance to. Please stick with me to catch where I am taking this Fanfic. I assure you that it will become the greatest fiction in all of existence after Firefly._


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